Russian Dream by Melontyp

Moscow, 1913, Aristarkh Lentulov

It was midday, and I went as usual to the town at the foot of the mountain during school break. It was a clean day when I went into the train station and took the next train to Russia. It only took 30 minutes from Switzerland on a Swiss-quality train to the Steppes of Russia. I stepped outside the train to find myself in a random metropolis in God knows what part of Russia. Instantly, it was the strange brutalist shapes of the nearby houses that fascinated me; every structure was the same dark grey that exists in Bosnia, but every building could have been shaped by hand by a giant sculptor. As I walk down the street, the more and more I see Communist Symbolism from Decades ago that stares down at me, as if they wanted to see me pass some sort of test, and the more and more the buildings make less sense. Somehow I managed to find the big open market. A peaceful place at first, until multiple armed men stormed the place and raised their unknown white and red flags. The men shot into the air and were shouting something I could not understand. I immediately left the place and searched for a way back to the train station. Other divisions of the revolutionary group also occupied the train station, and rifle shots could already be heard all over the asphalt jungle. I ran through the Slavic Chaos while every brutalist structure was reforming its shapes, as if they were collapsing and rebuilding themselves into new bulwarks and the old Leninistic sculptures were their masters. Finally, I found some Italian friends that just happened to be here, and we all got into their car and left the beautiful battlefield. By that time, it had also become dark while we were driving back to Switzerland. We talked, talked, and talked—we talked so much that the driver took a slightly wrong turn and drove straight into a gigantic concrete castle with an Adidas logo on it. At the exact moment of the crash, everything turned black; I couldn’t hear or see anything; there was only darkness—the exact same darkness I witnessed when I passed out months ago. I had the marvellous and calming feeling that my mind was completely disconnected from my body for a short period of time. It only took a few seconds until I woke up.

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